


He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not, He Hates Me...

by The_Madness_Linked_To_A_Hat



Category: Hollywood U: Rising Stars
Genre: Dabbles, F/M, POV First Person, Wordcount: 100-500, no particular order, some a little longer than others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3563459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Madness_Linked_To_A_Hat/pseuds/The_Madness_Linked_To_A_Hat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A selection of dabbles highlighting the highs, the lows and the down right confusing interactions with the most critic Professor ever to teach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Admittance — Now I’m The One Confused

The bed sheets have tightly wrapped themselves around my waist, as for the fifty something, time I’ve twisted into all imaginable angles to find some kind — any kind, of ‘comforting’ position; while my feet, just feel over heated from being trapped within the various layers. Still, it doesn’t compensate for the fact I’m tired, frustrated and basically … Just bloody confused.

Which is amazing, considering things had /finally/ been laid out.

They say the truth is spoken when the emotions are not around to withhold the truth, you just need listen to what the subconscious thoughts are trying to tell you or rather mumbled words in my case.

“ _Urgh!! — I acted like such a —!_ " Throwing my head back against the disarranged pillows, I narrowly missed the ornate, steel headboard. I found myself becoming irritable, unable to stop the chaotic recollections revolving around my thoughts, triggering my anxieties. My breathing steadied, slowly, taking with it some of the edge from my sudden racing heart; while my fingers simply clung to the surrounding material.

There was so much to take in, things I was sure I already knew but needed answers, needed confirmation that my hopes hadn’t gotten the better of me. Yet, my pushy, out of character antics, still made me visibly cringe. The masquerade is where things really fell into motion. His firm grip tugging at my hips, pulling me closer, pressed flush against him, as his needy soft lips sought out mine, as if desperate for air. I recall seeing the conflicted look, the solo battle between his ‘own’ wants and what was ‘expected’ of him.

It would explain the childish behaviour — something we both displayed.

Even inside the locked down studio, his touch gave reassure; holding my waist to steadying my balance, I recalled the sensation of his warm fingers adding more than a little spark to my ego. Not to mention the countless scenarios entering my head. The positives certainly helped, finally feeling myself relax, with a subtle smile creeping across my cheeks.

> His features were unfamiliar without the finely tuned, grimaced expression. His classic, painfully tight, knitted brow and slim pursed lips could have been seen as a distant memory on witnessing such composure. His arm loosely draped over my side, pulling me closer as I made attempt to shuffle free, just catching the mumbled words “ _Don’t … Go_ ”
> 
> We’d slept within a spooning position, his chest calmly raising and falling against my back while something firm pressed against my lower back, his phone perhaps? I’d half considered, sliding my hand down between us, if anything to rub my back but I doubted Hunt would believe any of my claims of not seducing him further. I mean it was /my/ fault /he/ kissed **me**.
> 
> With a slight twist and an audibly reluctant groan. I’d managed to prop myself up, resting upon my forearms. That’s how I caught his face, tentatively sweeping a stray hair from his brow and catching a meek smile as well as my final opportunity.
> 
> " _Thomas — do you have feelings for me?_ " It had taken up to the third attempt and use of his name, rather than title, to encourage him to speak up. Though actually hearing his admittance inflicted a shuddering chill of excitement.
> 
> " _yes …_ " was there ever a sweeter sounding word in the English dictionary!?
> 
>   
>  Pulling Hunts, offered jacket, tighter around myself, using it to shield myself from the chilled air within the set. It was hearing the voices entering the set, and the need to acknowledge the time when memory struck.
> 
> / **All phones had been confiscated until the end of the tour** / a doorway we hadn’t made through. That meant —
> 
> The flush of colour burnt over my cheeks, it explained the sudden lack of eye contact and why he chose to ‘sit’ while shouting about the health and safety and blatant disregard to ensuring the studio was empty before closing up. I think I caught him demanding his phone back too.

But I got my answer and some sleep.


	2. When We Dance Together Cheek to Cheek

Within your imagination you could be anyone or anything. As a child I dreamed of being a princess, long awaiting the arrival of a handsome prince to whisk me from my feet and onwards to an enchanted land. Living my life with the promise of living ‘happily ever after’.

As I grew older my interests changed, game consoles and teenage appropriate books added more extreme suggestions such as finding my future killing zombies or traveling without the laws of time and space allowing chance to team up with creatures man had yet to discover.

Reality was, in my opinion, for the boring and uninspired. I wanted to be someone other than me, to create the images plaguing my thoughts. That’s when my acceptance letter arrived — and changed everything.

I’d never really thought about university, I mean how could you top a high school experience where life’s changed for the better, people - friends reaching the goal they aimed for. The pride from not only their happiness but knowing you helped, that you were their inspiration but yet here I am. Passing the daunting first step of making friends, while actually getting noticed, I suppose is a close second.

What was really difficult was that not only was my professor an arse but an arse that had it in for me. He bad mouthed everyone, hinting that pleasantries no longer served purpose within his vocabulary, yet he saved his best insults for me. Thinking back I guess turning up to class late and taking a seat after being ordered to leave really didn’t do me any favours.

So why do I find myself unable to stop staring at that perfectly chiseled jaw line and those breathtaking brown eyes? He has caught me a few times, glancing back with an icy cold demeanour though recently I was sure I caught something different, something ever so subtle.

Addison surmises that I’m caught up with the action heart throb Chris Winters and to be fair she’s not far wrong, he’s gorgeous, talented, funny but while sitting in the auditorium I find myself daydreaming about my professor … Okay that sounds wrong, I — think about Thomas Hunt.

> 'His arms holding me close, as our bodies move so seamlessly together, dancing cheek to cheek. The warmth of his body radiating through mine adding a glow and hint of colour to my cheeks as he delicately sang the words “ _I'm in heaven_ ”.'

It’s only when I feel a sharp nudge to my side that I realise that not only is the whole class is staring at me with chiming giggles filling the background but I’d been mindlessly humming the tune ‘I’m in heaven’ louder than deemed acceptable. In this class even restricted to your thoughts were to loud.

" _Now that your finally back with us, though I often doubt that you ever truly are, we can continue on with the importance of posture and presence._ " Hunts brow furrowed accompanying the characteristic scowl everyone recognised him for.

" _If looks could kill_ " I heard Addison whisper before continuing with her notes.

" _Yeah_ " I quietly answered.


	3. You've Got Some Nerve

His skin felt so warm under my touch, under such a simple kiss, evoking both apprehension and comfort. Under watchful eyes of my peers it was important to make the moment look less than i felt it was.

" _You’ve got some nerve_ "

Words carrying an aura of venom, while the hint of fear formulated within his eyes, revealing an inner struggle. Yet despite my better judgment, I allowed myself to surrender to the subtle teasing of his breath, splaying my fingers along his back, encouraging him to move closer still while sensing some reluctance.

Feeling my heart sink with my breath caught in my throat, I’m unsure how I managed to force myself to sound more confident than I was feeling. “ _Got that right_ ”

The audience seemed to pause with baited breath, watching as I’d make a mockery of myself. It was only at the last moment, I’d realised he hadn’t pulled away, my cheeks burning from the reciprocated gesture. Short and sweet as the aged utterance went.

It meant a kink in the professors well maintained armour as the crowd cheered and applauded but they know nothing. Not like I do.

The previous evening, the tenderness of his kisses wrapped within profound sensations, hinted at desires becoming reality — but it was cut short all too soon, then as it was now, left open ended answers leading to nothing more than further questions.

The kiss on the cheek to me meant everything and nothing.


	4. Leaving A Lasting Effect

He was more than just a tutor, a professor by his preferred title; a man with a sharp tongue and a keen eye, effortlessly pointing out faults. Around him were many, though I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was his biggest project. A entanglement of he and I, begrudgingly acting out the the flavourless classic ‘the taming of the shrew’.

He seemed such a sweetheart with that perfectly defined jaw line and hazel drawn eyes — until he actually opened his mouth. Let it never be said that he ever uses the same insult in the same manner. Throwing his creativity around as if a god but the words … The tone, leaves the lasting desired effect.

Now where are we? Still professor and student or perhaps that and a little more? Daring to meet him at the ball changed everything and none of it planned. The feel of his perfectly smooth lips pressed against my own, the slight parting and feel of his tongue, nervously, requesting compliance — our body’s pressed flush while his fingers tip toed higher up my back, holding me closer.

I sought him out, it was a mistake, mine more than his. It was looking at the twisted confusion in his eyes watching as he attempted making sense and instead of passing the blame, he accepted it and moved on.

Just why can’t I?


	5. I'm procrastinating again aren't I?

He’s frustratingly rude, with a harsh demeanour that allows his confidence to flourish and yet with every side ways glance and approached wording, I feel my heart flutter with an unbridled ‘excitement’. I guess I’m trying to make some sense of what’s going on with in my head, rather than allowing my feelings to once again speak for me. No point in recalling where that got me … A week’s worth of the silent treatment with occasional, unrepeatable remarks.

My cheek found comfort resting within the cupped stance of my hand as I idly doodled the name ‘Chris Winters' within the margin of my journal, while in the background, Professor Hunt continued on with his lecture … Something about /imagery and stance/, I’d be sure to get the rest of the notes from Addy once we were dismissed. 

Who'd have thought that within the space of a few days my world would come crumbling around me? I'd lost Ethan as an agent, possibly even more if the Silver Circle had any further say in the matter and all while my relationship with Chris threatened to become less salvageable due to the devious notions of Megan... Something or other. I needed to take control, to stop my concentration wandering in cases of importance.

My head, lost in the clouds and looking back to my professor all I imagined were the visions of my hips rocking back, meeting each of his hungry thrusts, our heated flesh pressed close while his warm tentative touch surround my naked breast, flicking expert touches over each erect nipple. A combined chorus of moans, echoing around us as our entwined bodies sync into a comfortable rhythm. Each kiss caressing its way down my neck, so bitter sweet, cutting off his ability to over think his actions. 

He shouldn't be doing this ... 'We' shouldn't be doing this. He'd confessed so much and yet still we were so very far away. Confiding within me, a very painful memory, yet his position as an educator forbids him to pursue any wants or desires.

We all loose and it hurts like hell


	6. Save Tonight

> ' __ **Save tonight  
>  And fight the break of dawn  
>  Come tomorrow  
>  Tomorrow I'll be gone**
> 
> __**Tomorrow comes to take me away,  
>  I wish that I, that I could stay  
>  Girl you know I've got to go, oh  
>  Lord I wish it wasn't so'**
> 
> _**By Eagle Eye Cherry** _

It was becoming painfully obvious, mostly due to the precarious undercover ease-dropping, that Priya Singh was still pining over Thomas Hunt. Her short tale back at the administration office was as sweet as it was tragic but, based on the smug grin she offered upon my paying tuition it was safe to say, my heart strings were buffeted from any subtle tugs. Hunts response however, allowed a temporary glint of hope. He'd met someone.

I'd suspected the laugh was on her, still reaching out for something that the other was unwilling to offer. Yet as Hunt, un-expectantly opened his heart, it was different woman's name spoke of -- 'Yvonne'. His eyes lit up as he spoke so fondly about her and their brief time together, the same light dimming as he recalled the choices he made, a slight glimmer of regret.

Wrapping my arms tightly around myself, I fought to hold off the ache building within my chest. We'd been drawn together, sharing an intense spark as our lips seamlessly moulded together, a sudden kiss, to which he reciprocated, before reluctantly pulling away, spilling the words "we can't" from his downturned expression. His profession had once again, out-weighing his wants. His entire demeanour changed upon the sound of approaching footsteps. For the remainder of the evening he'd attempted to convince me that silence and watching the hands of the clock were all to look forward to and that I was fooling myself that what I was feeling was anything but real. We'd had this discussion before, along with some of the other repetitive 'never gonna happen' phrases.

After the aquarium most of the evening was a blur with key images highlighting a certain sequence of events. Some chump, believing that I was /willing/ to be his trophy for the evening after failing to understand that he was far from /dignified/ enough to be considered my type, then ... Back at Hunts office, re-enacting a scene from beauty and the beast, he'd received a busted lip from the, if anything, persistent adolescent. For a professor he had an impressive right hook.

I hated hiding things from the people I cared about, Addison especially, I saw her as the sister I'd always wanted. It was already eating away at me, being unable share this secret part of my life, I guess Thomas' reputation meant just as much to me.

Everyone has their weaknesses and I'm his.


End file.
